


Add It Up

by hannahrhen



Series: Here Comes Your Man [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Attraction, Developing Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Iron Man 3, M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Thor: The Dark World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ve tried to kill me at least three times now,” Tony whispered hotly in Loki’s ear, after their reunion, as Loki knelt on the floor at his feet. “That? Ends here, and ends now. This?” Gestured between them with his free hand. “Starts over. <em>We’re starting over</em>.”</p><p>Final part of the <strong>Reluctant!Soulmate AU</strong>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Add It Up

**Author's Note:**

> _"I guess it's got something to do with luck_   
>  _But I waited my whole life for just one--"_

“You’ve tried to kill me at least three times now,” Tony whispered hotly in Loki’s ear, after their reunion, as Loki knelt on the floor at his feet. “That should tell you two things.” He held up a finger where Loki would see it. “One, I’m pretty fucking hard to kill. And, two,” with another finger, “I am going to win every fight we have, from who takes out the garbage-- _it’s you! Every time!_ \--to whether we invite your smokin’ hot ex-girlfriend Amora to Christmas dinner.”

Had to raise his voice a little over Loki’s helpless chuckle. “We don’t, by the way. But from now on, I always win.” He tightened his hand in Loki’s hair, tugged a little for emphasis. “Because you’ve tried to kill me--at least!-- _three ... fucking ... times_.”

He used the fist in Loki’s hair to tilt the kneeling man’s head back and look him in the eye.

“And that? Ends here, and ends now. This?” Gestured between them with his free hand. “Starts over. We’re-- _starting-- **over.**_ ”

The grip in his hair kept Loki from nodding, but Tony gave him some credit for trying.

***

The first time Tony went to bed with Loki, after the reunion, after the confrontation on the penthouse floor and the agreement for a--okay, not a do-over, because _fuck_ that, but a non-homicidal stalemate ...

After all that, he was almost a hundred percent sure Loki was going to try to fuck him. Loki didn’t look great, no--looked like he had lost weight, and was even paler than he’d been before, if that were possible. But he was stable on his legs once he stood, and the storm of emotions coming off him was so complicated it was hard to tease out any one urge, to figure out exactly what Loki wanted.

Couldn’t figure out if a consummation do-over was on Loki’s wish list, but couldn’t rule it out either. Had his own complicated feelings about the idea--yeah, they’d done some mutual jerking-off, but only out of necessity, like college dorm-mates silently rubbing one out in parallel twin beds. And, while that felt good (really, really surprisingly good, _holy shit_ ), he wasn’t near ready to have Now-Doused-with-Extra-Crazy climbing onto him.

Wasn’t ready for _that_ kind of do-over.

Still nursed bad memories of that first (only) time, the evening of their bonding oaths. The hesitant desire that roiled off Loki merged poison-slick with Tony’s revulsion, no sign of where one ended and the other took up. Plus, it fucking hurt, and not a little, and he didn’t know if that was Loki’s skill or Tony’s body or just how it was gonna be. If he ever let Mr. Extra-Crazy get up on him again, anyway.

But it turned out he had nothing to worry about, at least not that night. When they’d turned in--two hours later, or three, maybe--Loki had jerked away from Tony’s freaked-out thoughts and just glared at him.

“No,” was all he said, and Tony wasn’t sure if it was meant to be reassuring or meant to hose Tony down, as if he were the one having the inappropriately horizontal ideas.

He held his hands up. “Wasn’t even thinking it,” which was a lie, of course, but it calmed Loki down enough to let them both clean up, change, and go the hell to bed.

Nobody touched anybody, that night. Not even by accident.

***

The first time Loki left the Tower in--oh, months, Tony could almost feel the metaphorical chains dropping from Loki’s wrists and ankles. Could see Loki try to hide his eagerness with a blank expression, but couldn’t cover the leap in his heart at the idea of escape.

Tony’s stomach twisted up a little in dread--wondering if their proximity had snapped the bond back in place, as if any tiny separation would hurt again. Barbed wire under his skin. Guessed he would find out soon enough, so he steeled himself.

But Loki had to leave. Had to.

Tony hadn’t realized ... Well, he’d been kind of occupied, what with being kidnapped and close-to-murdered by his soulmate’s ally, but he hadn’t realized Loki had never left the Tower. Never. Until Thor had mentioned it, late one night, while Loki read in another room. It came up in the context of his brother’s imprisonment in Asgard before the Malekith situation. Thor had noted, with a shade of bitterness, that his brother didn’t do well with long-term confinement. That it had been forced upon him one too many times.

When Thor had paused to take a pull off his beer, Tony hadn’t been able to help himself:

“No, wait--Odin threw him in there ... forever.” Didn’t think he was imagining that Thor was taking too fucking long to finish that swallow. Tony leaned forward in his chair, suddenly impatient, and tapped a fingernail against his own bottle. “Threw him in the dungeon, like, forever. Thousands of years.” When he got only an eyebrow in response, he clarified. “His own son.”

Thor leveled a shrewd gaze at Tony as he finally lowered his bottle. “As you know, Loki doesn’t consider himself Odin’s son any longer.”

Oh, and that was-- “Bullshit.” He was suddenly agitated, and not sure whether it was his own response or Loki picking something up a signal from the other room and suddenly giving it his full study. Tony talked fast before the other came to investigate. “I mean, we have that kind of shit here, but most of it’s in the history books, you know. And with less magical torture involved. It just ... it just ... “

It just suddenly occurred to him that forcing Loki to stay in the Tower for months on end had probably not been the best scenario, and, although it was hardly his own damned fault, Tony could certainly do something about it. Tony himself had been yanked out of the soulmate nest; Loki would have to be pushed out.

At the very minimum--the very minimum--to take the fucking edge off. Let off steam. Manage the capital-C Crazy just waiting to erupt from beneath the surface.

Again.

“Can you take him out tomorrow?” he asked Thor, who blinked up at Tony in a tipsy sort of surprise. “Have him work his mojo on you, put on your fake mustaches, and take him out.” Waved in the direction of the windows, the city beyond. “Come back when you want. Obviously I’ll be fine.”

(Not so obvious, but they’d know soon enough, and Tony wasn’t quite ready to squire Loki through Manhattan, because ... no.)

Loki had come in, then, from the other room, book still in hand and brows angled together in worry and a little annoyance. “What is amiss?” he asked, surveying Tony first and then giving Thor a suspicious look.

Yeah, Tony could feel the pissed-offedness, and he resisted the urge to approach. Instead, waved a finger: “You and Thor are going walkabout tomorrow. Have fun.” Made a show of turning his attention to the tablet on the seat next to him, and tapped it a few times as if it were suddenly much more interesting than this conversation. “Bring me back some cupcakes. And a pizza. Maybe a fake Rolex.” There was an idea. “Oh, that’s it--scavenger hunt.” Aimed an absent smile at Thor.

Now it was definitely “pissed” radiating off Loki, and he glanced over to see Loki glaring at his brother. Recognized the “heard you’ve been talking shit” look. “No, really--you need to get out of here for a little while. So, do it. I’ll see you tomorrow night ... if you want. Or, you know, whenever you come back.”

Loki looked as if he intended to speak--his mouth fell open, but then clamped shut again. Instead, Thor blundered from the other side of the room: “This sounds like a fine idea. Brother, we will hunt for scavengers, as Stark suggests. Together.”

And that was serious anger, but tiramisued with a palpable anticipation that only aggravated Loki more. He crossed his arms over his chest--awkwardly, considering that he was still holding the book. “Fine,” he huffed. “We will go out in the morning.” And, while his eyes held a flicker of uncertainty, he sniped at Tony, “And these cupcakes had best taste of the sweetest ambrosia, Stark.”

“Oh, they do,” he smirked back.

Oddly--unexpectedly--he’d barely felt a pang when Loki had cleared the building. Nothing bad, anyway. Just a quiver of curiosity and maybe even excitement skipping back to him through the air, through the walls. Could tell when Thor was being a pain in the butt, but could also tell it barely made a difference. Loki was pleased. And Tony kept catching himself smiling as he worked, unable to help echoing Loki’s relief and enjoyment back at him.

The feeling of discovery he got off the other matched Tony’s own as he tinkered and improved and invented.

But when Loki returned, late in the evening, he didn’t seek Tony out, and Tony didn’t go looking. They needed to reestablish equilibrium, after all.

***

The first time Loki had gotten involved in SHIELD’s business, no one at SHIELD learned of it. Tony’s role had changed, now that he was out of the suit, but they still needed his ass, and frequently. They needed the armor he designed for Clint, Nat, and Steve; weapons (yeah, okay, he was out of the weapons biz, but fuck that noise, they still needed ammo); and surveillance tools to feed the right information to the right people at the right time.

None of the SHIELD monkeys could be counted on--they’d be too worried about their next paychecks and whether they’d left the garage door open at home, they weren’t giving up everything to be here. This wasn’t the only thing they did.

At times, it was the only thing Tony did. And so, while he sometimes worked in the HQ of SHIELD’s local command center, he also preferred to set himself up where he’d actually be able to see what the hell was going on. You know, like his Tower, where he could usually see everything for the many--suspiciously many--times the attacks focused on Manhattan.

The problem with the Tower? Everyone knew it was Tony Stark’s and that the majority of Avengers either lived or stayed there from time to time. Which made the Tower a symbol and therefore a target.

Yeah, so, maybe he hadn’t thought it all through when he built the thing, but that was neither here nor there, given that the battle was going on now, all around him. He just needed to ensure the right ordnance was armed at the right time, and that the AI elements of Natasha’s suits were interfacing with JARVIS efficiently.

He looked up from the display when he noticed a green glow out of the corner of his eye. And ... that was an all-over green glow that--okay, shrouded the whole Tower, according to the visual. And he’d looked up at the surveillance just in time to see a barrage of laser blasts coming straight at it--at them--and he would have noticed it in time, thank you very--

_“STARK.”_

Yeah, that wasn’t good. He turned his head only to discover--mm-hm, that was Loki, glaring at him from the steps into the workshop.

Tony threw his hands up, and tried to match Loki’s glare. “Bitch at me later, Bullwinkle. Let me deal with this first.”

But then Loki stormed back up the steps and--yeah, fucking dealt with it first. Tony confirmed it with the surveillance, which showed Loki flicking one damned vessel after another from the skies around the Tower. Just clearing the air with a slick precision that left--thank God--the allied aircraft untouched but pruned everything that had tried to shoot at Tony, Cap--even Thor. Then, with an even more murderous expression aimed at the balcony camera, disappeared from view and did a fair amount of damage on the streets below, tossing every enemy vehicle, carcass, and still-bleeding body into the bay.

Shit.

Which would be a fuckload to clean up, but not Tony’s problem. Okay, yeah, most of the damage had been done by the Avengers and even the SHIELD paycheck-to-paycheck peons, but Loki had stuck a motherfucking period at the end of that sentence.

Maybe an exclamation point. And Tony could feel how pissed he still was, which--

Why?

Loki reappeared right as Tony was noodling over his confusion, and stepped into Tony’s space, the tall motherfucker. “You take too many risks.” Loki’s breath was stirring the hair on Tony’s head--Christ. “Too many risks. I have been chained to a soulmate who has the sense of a field mouse.” And, shit, yeah, the anger was palpable, but what the fuck?

And, just to press the point, Loki added, “But even field mice have enough intelligence to hide from the falcons.”

And the problem with the empathy thing? Tony was suddenly just crazy angry, too, and couldn’t tell if it was Loki’s words, or Loki’s own nasty vibe that was doing it, but: “Well, good--you’ve wanted me dead the entire time you’ve known me. So you should be grateful that I’m going to make it _easy_ for you.” And he turned and walked off, concentrating very hard on not faltering in his steps, given the near-tangible wall of rage that rose up behind him.

Loki didn’t follow, which was a small--no, no, a _great_ mercy, given what Tony would do if anyone even tried to touch him right now. Knew he would not win in hand-to-hand slap-fights with a god.

_Fuuuck._

Thor knew what had happened in the battlefield, of course--had recognized Loki’s magic and his style, but had helped cover up the lies. Used that contagious good nature to convince the others that all of the dirty work had been done by themselves.

But it wasn’t going to be possible to keep this secret for very long, Tony realized. He settled in that evening to watch the battle footage--Loki was somewhere in the Tower, brooding with little jabs of cold, blunt anger here and there. Tony was still pissed, but he wore a half-grin at the very clear picture his imagination provided, of the god of mischief stalking from one end of a room to the other, muttering indignantly to himself. Could tell that was exactly what was happening, and it made it hard to maintain his own outrage at Loki’s misdirected temper.

He’d learned from the debrief and confirmed in the footage that Loki had not only visibly masked himself from any SHIELD surveillance, but had been able to hide the trajectory of his disruptive magic:

It really appeared that the big bads had imploded on their own.

The only clue that something had been done on Tony’s behalf? Those blasts of energy that had faltered and dissolved just before they hit the very obvious barrier erected around Tony’s precious Tower. The protective field that had been put around Tony himself.

“Ah, Loki,” Tony breathed, and picked up on the god’s sudden interest from another room ... floor? Where was he?

Maybe it was time to go find Prince Humperdinck.

***

So, eventually, Loki had spoken to him again without the tone that added “you imbecile” to the end of every sentence, and so Tony didn’t hear it for once when he told Loki to shroud himself in his usual “average Midgardian” appearance so they could go out.

“Yes, out,” he goaded, standing at the elevator. “Grab your coat and hat, and come on.” The spell that washed over Loki as he stalked toward Tony was breathtaking, as always, and from one step to the next, Loki went from six-foot-two of leather-clad deadly divinity to ... well, six-foot-two of benign gentleman, dark blond hair in short curls, blue eyes instead of green, and wool coat and jeans the same cut and wash as Tony’s.

Still objectively gorgeous, of course, Tony forced himself to admit. “Average Midgardian,” his ass. Sharp cheekbones and watercolor complexion and not a single misused pound. Because heaven forbid Loki do anything halfway, or be anything other than the focus of the room--a target of mass desire.

Loki blinked as he waited at the elevator, and Tony had to shake it off quickly and catch up. Didn’t make eye contact after that.

Off his game, Tony didn’t realize until they were on the way to the car that he’d have to introduce ... whoever this was to Happy. That they’d be out for the first time, together. And that Tony Stark would be photographed with some unknown, tall, and ... yeah, whatever ...

Man.

Way to get the blogs warmed up this morning, anyway.

Got a smirk and “of course, boss” from Happy when he introduced Loki as his “cousin.” Yeah, his tone had been layered in sarcasm, and Happy had certainly met Tony’s good times, both the female and male varieties, too often to be fazed. But he had shown a smidge of surprise at the destination--just a bit, and then he’d nodded and set the car in the right direction.

Loki’s current of curiosity and a warm kind of ... Christ, it felt like appreciation ... or maybe this is what Loki felt like _being appreciated_ ...

Shit.

Yeah, well. Tony looked around, and suddenly--

No. Not ready.

 _Not ready_.

Let Loki out at the door like he’d always planned to do just that. Explained to him how things worked, handed him plastic like he really was one of those good times, and let him find his own way into the store to get whatever fucking books he wanted. Cringed at Loki’s knowing look--it wasn’t like they could hide this shit from each other, and, fuck, it only made things--

But the tension slid out of Loki, too, and he realized they’d both been wired tight on their first outing. Together.

Told Happy’s face to shut up when he climbed back into the car. And, no, Tony’s “cousin” wouldn’t need a return trip.

Loki looked back and met Tony’s eyes once through two layers of glass. Held his hand up and sent Tony a wave of warmth through the bond.

Tony knew he would find his way home.

***

The first time Tony had caught himself admiring the god of mischief ... oh, admiring him that way, yes, and openly, it had been a shock. Loki had started to dump the Asgard-standard gear, the tunics and leggings and inexplicable leather accents, and had taken to dressing like ... well, Tony.

Okay, not like Tony, exactly. Tony had his own preference for decades-old t-shirts worn thin, and jeans, and occasionally something weird that one of his PAs had tucked into his closet. Which he would dig out when the t-shirts and jeans were all dirty or misplaced. But, while Tony’s t-shirts were worn thin with use and age, Loki’s seemed to be intentionally designed to ...

That day, that moment, Loki was lounging (because that was the word for it, yes) on the chaise next to the wall of glass looking over the city. He’d just come back from whatever the did when he left the penthouse for hours at a time, thrown his coat on the sofa--like he expected servants to tidy it up, of course--and settled into this pose. Stretched out on the chair with one arm pillowing his head and the other resting on his hip. Tilted his face into the afternoon sun, which turned his profile soft and golden.

His stack of books remained on the floor, temporarily ignored.

Tony had come in to snap and tease and try to find out whether Loki had done something out there Tony would have to fix. Plus, Loki’s mood was too jumbled with good cheer, uncertainty, and, yes, mischievousness to ignore. Tony got in a few digs, sure, but then he found himself ...

Staring at Loki’s nipples. The seawater-blue tee was tailor-fitted to that long, lean form, seams falling perfectly along Loki’s shoulders where they dropped into those long arms. Fabric pulled tight, but not too tight--okay, yes, too tight--across his abdomen and chest, the ripples of spare but sculpted muscle along his stomach leading up to defined pecs and ...

And his nipples. Whose color (pinkish-brown) and shape (round like quarters) were perfectly discernible through the material. Should he be seeing Loki’s fucking nipples through his shirt? Was this the 1990s? Was Loki some eager-to-succeed starlet on the red carpet?

He might as well be naked. This peekaboo of a form that offered one more piece of evidence that Loki was indeed something divine? Was even worse than being naked.

It was shameful.

And embarrassing.

Even more embarrassing when Tony’s mouth went a little dry and his eyes glazed over, and he saw Loki smile before he turned his face away to hide it. Could still see Loki’s own face go a little red, his lips part in a soft breath. That he shifted slightly on the chaise, and the tissue-thin fabric of the shirt just pulled even more over the outline of his torso. And those pebbled nipples.

Oh.

So that’s how they were going to play it.

Tony wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, or if the t-shirts actually got a little tighter after that. And then Loki started working on the ass of the trousers. _His_ ass in _those_ trousers.

Fuck.

***

So, yeah, it probably wasn’t too much of a surprise, one night soon after, that Tony gave up squirming silently in their bed and admitted, “God, sorry, but ... I have to do this.”

It wasn’t like his hard-ons, or Loki’s, for that matter, had been kept secret. But even after the few times they’d jerked off--from a very comfortable distance--during their ... “break,” Tony couldn’t bring himself to rub one off lying next to Loki. A few shower sessions, yeah, and he hadn’t imagined Loki’s high color after, but ... you know, he was a healthy guy, he had needs, and--

“Do what you must,” Loki responded in the dark, and Tony didn’t think he imagined the shiver in that voice. So, yeah, leave granted, and Tony shoved his hand down the front of his sweats and gripped himself where he was already hard as a rock, already throbbing from just thinking about--

Loki’s groan echoed his own, and, oh, God, right next to each other like this, it was--

God, even better. Even _better._

He wasn’t far gone enough to reach for the lube that probably was still in the bedside drawer, or maybe he was too far gone, so he measured his strokes, alternating with a hard pressure from the heel of his hand that pushed his cock down and gave him just the right--

Another grunt from Loki, and who knew the god would make that kind of sound when he was--

What was he doing? As far gone as Tony was, he could tell Loki’s arms were still at his sides, that he was just turned slightly toward Tony, but his breathing was rapid, and the little noises he made at every stroke of Tony’s, every press ...

“Do you--uh,” Tony tried, his hand only slowing slightly. “Do you want to--” And he was going to say “touch yourself” or probably “jerk off,” definitely not an invitation to do anything to Tony, because no, but Loki only said, in a broken, needful voice:

“May I kiss you? Just kiss you. While you ... ?”

And that was ... _oh._ Yeah, okay, yes. So Tony shifted down on the too-many-pillows under his head, shoved some of them away, because that wasn’t too much to ask, and then Loki was over him, but only his face. The rest of his body carefully maintained the distance.

Loki’s mouth on his was hesitant at first, but as soon as they touched ... Loki had to pull back as they both gasped. Tony’s hand squeezed his dick--hard--because, oh, shit, he could feel that, all over. Loki’s was diamond-hard, but it was like ... it was like ...

The pleasure reverbed back to Tony, all over Tony, and Loki pressed back in after just a moment, as desperate for the contact as Tony himself. This time, he kissed and he didn’t stop, and every noise Tony made, every gasp, every growl--Loki swallowed them all. Tony was close--fuck, he was so close, and Loki still wasn’t--

Tony pulled back. “Don’t you, uh, need to--” And let that be the question, because his brain was shorting out. And Loki talked over him anyway, a firm “no” before he sealed his mouth back to Tony’s and knew the moment Tony hit that fucking peak, because--oh, God. _Oh, God._

Loki breathed his own moan into Tony’s mouth as Tony’s climax fucking kept on going, the pleasure in his own balls, his cock--deep in his belly as it slithered over to Loki and then folded back to him, and Tony could tell ... The tension in Loki’s face, the shake in his shoulders, the little pants and cries as he--

Jesus fucking Christ--as he came without touching himself. Just from ...

_Wow._

So Tony said, “ ... wow.” Because that was all his lost breath allowed for.

And Loki cheated by pressing his lips to Tony’s shoulder, and twice, but Tony didn’t push him away, because that set off sweet little ripples, too. He nosed the hair that fell against his face until he found Loki’s scalp, then nudged that, too.

When he sufficiently had caught his breath, Tony said, “I think ... I think I just discovered the door to the porn shop.”

And if Loki didn’t remember that conversation, or didn’t understand the reference to begin with, he hid it well. He only snorted in response as he rolled back to his side of the bed and reached for the tissues.

***

And then, of course, SHIELD found out. Or at least the other Avengers did, and Fury, and Tony didn’t put it past that gossipy old bitch to tell anyone and everyone around the group coffee machine.

Tony had been deeper in it, this time, in the Quinjet in the actual fucking epicenter of the action, and the plane had taken some nasty hits--slung him around along with the others, only he was nothing but meat and too-fragile bone, and what was he doing not even basically armoring himself in the middle of a battle?

Being fucking stupid, that’s what.

Something to think about.

Hadn’t perceived Loki’s hand in his safe landing--could tell Loki knew what was going on, and had gotten a burst of--yeah, there it was--outrage when the plane rattled around. So, let’s not kid ourselves: Loki had done something.

But he hadn’t appeared, and, for that, Tony was ecstatically grateful.

Until they were in Debrief.

Because they were almost done-- _they were almost done!_ \--when Loki glided through the fucking door, and did he mention it was a closed door?, and moved right over to Tony’s chair. And leaned right down, into Tony’s space, and ...

Yeah, okay--

Pressed his lips to Tony’s temple, half in his hair, for a moment. A long moment. Like Tony was a kid getting his temperature taken by an actual loving mother.

Tony would have pulled away, but he was kind of stunned, actually, and when Loki himself drew back with a whisper (“You are well, then?”), Tony suddenly saw at least a dozen weapons pointed directly at Loki.

Which was impressive, because there were only four armed people in the room. But those people were Natasha, Clint, Fury, and, yeah, Maria Hill, so tentacle-style offense was doable. Cap just sat, frozen and staring, with his shield gripped in two hands; Bruce was still making his way back, thank God; and Thor ...

Thor looked like it was Christmas morning and he’d gotten a puppy.

Tony didn’t talk for a moment. A looonnng moment. Loki just stood next to Tony, arms folded and palms cupping his elbows, the picture of perfect “No, I’m not an insane killer, whatever do you mean?” All Tony could feel was pure, patented Loki--smugness and enjoyment and ... yes, a curl of possessiveness that wrapped around Tony and sank in.

And Thor? Clearly was enjoying his puppy, his new bike, and his fucking Red Ryder BB gun.

Later--a looonnng time later--knives and revolvers and arrows were resheathed, and Thor had walked Loki away, and Tony was hoarse from talking and then shouting, and ...

Well, nothing had been resolved. The looks from Nat, Fury, and, yeah, especially Clint were positively incandescent, and not in the good way. Steve was ... well, his expression was kind of a pinched-together “this is about what I expected” disappointment, but not much different than his usual reaction to Tony’s bullshit.

Maria was long gone, probably seeding the gossip field at the coffee maker, with fewer swears than Fury himself would use later.

But they let him go, and, as he passed by Steve, he got a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll keep things cool around here, okay?” Steve’s voice was low, for Tony’s ears only. “This is gonna get worse before it gets better, but ... “ He glanced around the lobby where the SHIELD peons suddenly seemed much more armed than they had been, and possibly somewhat more competent--both unfortunate developments.

Steve squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll just do what I can to keep things cool, okay?”

Tony nodded, shrugged. “Yeah.” Worse before it got better--Tony knew the hell about that. “Just ... you know this isn’t my-- I didn’t--”

“I know.” Another pat, and thankfully Steve measured his power more than Thor usually did. “Just hang in there, okay?”

***

Tony wasn’t sure whether it was the first cluster of kisses, or that single second kiss, that pushed him along, but now the new reactor was finished in the workshop, tucked into a box that waited on the table’s surface.

It was time. Yeah, it probably should have been time before the other Avengers found out he was in his unholy marriage with Loki, but he couldn’t have guessed Loki would do what he did, or that Thor’s big mouth would let everyone know the nature of--

Well, he had been proud, after all, Thor had defended later against Tony’s eyeroll and the hands he rested on his hips. Proud of his brother’s “mate”--oh, God, great--and proud of the change Tony was encouraging.

But Tony had never stopped tweaking the newest version of the reactor, never ruled out the possibility of having it shoved back in between his broken-open ribs, and over his heart. Still felt twinges of panic at the thought of it, but was getting better at masking them before Loki could find his way into the workshop. Even, at times, before JARVIS could pass on a message--now more likely to be in Loki’s true words than JARVIS’ diplomatic interpretation.

It was time. Time to offer them both the choice.

The first time Tony told Loki about his arc-reactor theory, it went differently than what he expected.

The wall of fury came back, almost literally knocking Tony to the floor. He recognized, just before his instinct forced him to call on JARVIS for help, that Loki’s rage was directed inward--he was just now having the “I am an idiot” revelation that Tony had had months before. That the arc reactor had probably held off the bond just as it had the scepter.

When Loki calmed enough to speak--with Tony still giving himself enough room to be able to run if things went south--he explained that he had assumed his own physiology was to blame. His own--oh, yeah ... the Frost Giant thing.

Oh, that had to--had to sting.

And so it hadn’t taken long for Loki to follow to the inevitable conclusion. It was a risk, yes, to Tony’s health and the bare stability of his body, and maybe wouldn’t work in the end, but ... maybe it would? Maybe they could be free from each other. Free to choose their own fates.

Free from this _prison._

_Loki._

Loki’s eyes had been huge by the end, and Tony had had to turn away. Had to set the reactor back down, in its box, on the table. Even though he couldn’t see Loki’s face any longer, he could still feel him. Always could feel him.

Realized the anger had given way. In its place? Tony felt a stab directly into his heart, one that left him breathless and bent double, like he hadn’t been since their very first days together. It was everything, all at once, and Tony couldn’t even begin to tease it apart. To know it.

And when Tony turned back around, went to ask _what the fucking fuck--_

Yeah. Loki was gone.

***

He didn’t go looking immediately. Confirmed with JARVIS that Loki had left the Tower, and waited a bit, and waited a little longer. And then waited for Thor to show up, because Thor would somehow know Tony did something wrong and would come and look at him like the puppy he got for Christmas had just been sent to live on a farm somewhere in the country.

But Thor didn’t show up. And when Loki didn’t return--and let’s be honest, here, it had been maybe two hours, tops, but Tony was impatient--Tony had to call Happy, again, to take him to the one place he thought he could find the god.

It was just a guess, and a guess based on not knowing Loki very well, which sucked, but ... it turned out to be a good one.

Loki had taken over an armchair in a quiet corner of the store, and had a pile of books on the floor next to him and a novel, it looked like, in his hands. He--huh--had on the same disguise (glamour?) he’d used the last time he’d come here, all Dead Poets Society and Jane Austen, a charcoal-grey v-neck sweater over a collared white shirt, dark trousers, the black leather jacket tossed on the chair’s back. Blonde curls and blue eyes instead of black and green, but the look of superiority was one hundred percent Loki. “How nature says, ‘Do not touch,’” which--who were they kidding?--wasn’t going to dissuade most of the men and women in this store from making a play.

Not at a man who looked like that.

Tony lowered the gift cup of chai into Loki’s field of vision as he nudged the book pile over with his foot. Barely looking up before accepting the offering, Loki otherwise pretended to ignore Tony as the man dropped to his knees next to the chair’s arm, setting his own cup next to the stack.

Tony nodded at the books. “Planning on bankrupting me?”

Loki pointedly turned a page and even more pointedly rested the cup on the chair’s other wide arm. “I will pay my own way, if that is required.”

Tony folded his arms over the chair’s side. Sighed audibly. “It’s not. But something else is.”

That got Loki’s attention, however grudging.

Tony felt his own exasperation and saw Loki’s brows draw together. Great. “C’mon. You know you can’t lie. You know you can’t lie. About this. To me. But ... I can’t always guess what it means, the stream of--” He tapped his chest just over his heart. “I need you to use your words.”

A little gesture, and Tony saw the flash of green around his peripheral vision. Turned to look, and, when he turned back, Loki was Loki, albeit in the same clothes with his dark hair tied back. When Tony’s confusion trickled through, Loki explained, “They still see me as I was. Alone. And our conversation cannot be overheard.”

Which was better than Tony’s plan, which was to hope to hell this didn’t end up on HuffPo. But, deflections aside: “Talk to me.”

He got a long look, loaded with fatigue. With resignation. The reply Loki gave, finally, was barely audible. Just barely, and, while Tony was fairly sure he heard it, he wanted to hear it a second time. He made a little interrogative sound.

Loki complied. “I do not wish this.” Looked at the pages under his palms. “I do not wish you to harm yourself further, just to ... just to end what is between us.” Looked Tony over, and Tony marveled that, for the first time, Loki’s feelings were plain on his face, not just in Tony’s gut. “If you wish me to go, you need only tell me so. You can have your freedom, and you will not suffer any more than is necessary.”

Loki doing selfless? Hardly fit him, and--yeah, no, that was too easy. Tony shifted on his knees. “But is that what you want? Do you want to go?” Tilted his head a little. “Loki.”

Those eyebrows tightened again, and Loki shifted the open hardback in his lap. “I want a soulmate who ... chooses me.” He gave up the pretense of interest in the book and pressed it shut. “I thought, perhaps, it was not too late to begin anew.” And he felt the need to clarify, “As you said that night.”

And that was ...

No, wait-- _really?_

“You ... Wait, is this you trying to ... win me over? Woo me?“ Tony shook his head. Laughed helplessly. Kind of crazily. “Oh, God. Loki. _God._ If that’s what it is, you’re really, really bad at it.” Talked over Loki’s growl. “Christ, come on. You tried to kill me. A lot.”

And there was the throbbing irritation, catching up to Tony and cinching in his abdomen. Loki snapped, “Are you ever not going to bring that up.”

That was easy. “Um, no.”

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Seriously.” Tony’s laugh had dwindled to a chuckle, but it persisted. “It’s my only advantage.” Tony looked down at his own covered cup on the floor next to him, then at Loki, who still looked as if he were waiting for the punch to come.

“Look, it’s not just you,” Tony assured. “I suck at it, too.” Glanced around at the store’s patrons, all driven deep into their own drama, unaware of the interplanetary drama taking place right in front of them. Started to think about beating a retreat back to the car.

Looked at Loki, who was still ... yeah. “Besides,” he said lightly, “you must be doing something right. I’m the one on my knees here. You put me on my fucking knees, Loki. Isn’t that where you always wanted me?”

And ...

Oh.

_Oh._

The tug behind his navel went straight to his-- And when he looked up, Loki was staring at him. Pupils dark, and--

Yeah, there it was.

Loki’s head lolled against the chair back, eyelids lowering in the most obvious shift directly from first to third gear, nothing in between, and the problem with transmitting every single twinge of filthy thought to someone who can make it happen? Tony was a fucking teenager again, blood all headed between his legs as that black-haired, green-eyed demon smirked.

“I did always mean to make you kneel, Stark.”

This conversation wasn’t over, the topic wasn’t settled, but--

“Let me call Happy.”

***

The ride back had been confusing.

“Your manservant--”

“Knows enough not to look back. And we’re about due for a talk anyway.” Honestly didn’t know which version of Loki Happy had seen--the raised eyebrow at pickup could have been either “you’re screwing Earth’s greatest villain” or “hey, I’ve seen this ‘date’ before, that’s new.” Either way, he’d held the door open and held his tongue.

They’d made out for most of the drive, Loki pulling Tony practically into his lap and Tony more than willing to be there, Loki’s long tongue just discovering the entirety of his mouth and one of those thighs sliding between his to--

But as they got closer to home, Loki’s hands slowed and he’d pulled his face away from Tony’s. Just looked at him instead as his palms ran up and down Tony’s back, fingers tugging his clothing back into place. Eventually they’d just looked at each other, silent, and Tony couldn’t tell if this was an ending or just an intermission.

Felt the buzz of heat coming off Loki--knew Loki felt his, but ...

Now they were in their room. They’d ridden up the elevator still quiet, and barely touching--a little brush of arms here and there, an absent graze of Loki’s fingers over his hand. Touches that could be written off as accidents, only he felt the jut of nervous anticipation that precipitated each one.

They were going to their room, after all.

At the door, they separated--Tony taking the bathroom first, then Loki. Tony was still--well, confused, when he heard the sink running for awhile behind the closed door. Figured Loki was washing his face, maybe cleaning his teeth, but it went on for awhile, and finally Tony knocked.

Didn’t ask, “Are you okay?” because nobody here was anybody’s mother, but still--if Loki was about to freak out instead of getting into bed with him, Tony needed to get ahead of that. He pushed open the door just as Loki twisted off the tap.

Tony got an expanse of naked back and mile-long legs as a greeting, and he would take it. Loki's hair was loosed, and back down to his shoulders. His clothes, most of them, were discarded in a messy pile to the side (something else for the servants to get, of course, and Tony should probably hire one of those rather than just a once-a-week maid), and he wore only boxers, just like Tony’s. So the view wasn’t entirely interrupted, but--

Tony sighed. Took in the fine, lean muscles of Loki’s back, an expanse of cream skin broken here and there by battle scars. Shoulders broad in comparison to that carved waist, and legs that--yeah, really could be convicted of a crime.

Why did Loki have to be so damned tall. He felt like a Hobbit in comparison.

And then Loki turned around, and, oh--

Even better.

But the waves of nerves jittered under Tony’s skin, and it was hard to--hard to grok the source of the anxiety. Loki was still turned on--one glance at his half-hard cock under that thin layer of cotton was enough of an indication if Tony hadn’t also been getting the live wire of want under his skin.

But the nerves--

Oh.

Tony leaned against the doorframe, and looked only at Loki’s face, despite the temptation the rest of him presented. Tried to explain it in a way the other would understand.

“So, here’s the thing with failed experiments. If you try once, and it doesn’t work, you can either give up--which is a dumbass move, if you ask me--or you can, you know, change a variable and try again. I’m a big fan of method number two, just so you know. Because I’m not big on giving up.”

Loki’s face softened at that, and Tony could feel the soothing waves coming off him. He spoke. “Magic is similar. And I rarely give up, myself.” He moved toward Tony.

“So, we are in agreement, then--good.” Tony sniffed. “I told you I would win every fight.” And being pressed up against all that (nearly-) nakedness while he himself was still dressed was ... yeah, dirty hot, even if tilting his head up to practically a ninety-degree angle just to get a kiss wasn’t his favorite. Grumbled “why the fuck do you have to be so tall” under his breath, which Loki mostly ignored.

Loki’s hands had slid down to grip Tony’s ass, pulling him up against the hard-on that had made an impressive rally since they’d moved together. Between one kiss and another, Loki asked, “So, which variable do we change?”

And if that wasn’t an invitation, Tony didn’t know what was.

Having six miles of naked god desperately stripping his clothes off in bed was ... new, but ... yeah, good ... _great._ So--his thoughts were interrupted as he lifted his ass up off the bed long enough to say goodbye to his shorts--nice. And then Loki was on him, finally touching all over, rolling him into the sheets, and that mouth--that mouth.

He knew he didn’t present quite the pretty picture that Mr. Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Beautiful did, and Loki’s hands lingered on the healed-over marks of the damage from the cave, the reactor ... having the reactor pulled out. The middle of his chest looked like it had exploded, but Loki’s expression didn’t change, and, if anything the waves of ... of desire only kicked up after, as Tony arched his back under those hands and he groaned at Loki to get on with it.

Loki had just slithered down between Tony’s legs

“I think I need to get back on that horse, you know. I mean, no offense. About the horse and all.” Holy shit, it was next to impossible not to laugh, but he managed it, and only got a narrow-eyed look for his trouble.

Tony was incredibly pleased with himself.

But Loki only returned the smile--all suggestion--and wondered, “Oh? I thought we were using the science metaphor as an excuse for doing this. Now you’ve switched to a beast you wrap your thighs around and hold onto while it takes you for a long, hard ... ride?”

Oh, shit. Yeah. That was good. But Tony couldn’t resist: “You would know about--” A hard kiss shut him up, and the bubbles of amusement that slipped through told him he wasn’t in too much trouble, even as Loki lifted one of Tony’s legs up and--

“Ah, cold!”

“That’s what you get, Stark.” Loki kept rubbing at his hole with lubed fingers. Slow circles and light taps and ... oh, then one little fingertip sliding right in. Tony groaned and spread his legs wider.

Oh, that was better. Loki’s coaxing was unhurried and layered in pure desire and a fresh affection he’d only gotten hints of before, one that spiked and peaked at Tony’s sounds, at Tony’s demands for “more, God, give me another one--yeah, _like that_ \--Christ, your fingers are as long as your legs, you gorgeous, talented freak,” and the last word had gotten a nip to Tony’s thigh and a little burst of warning, but Tony just rolled with it and said, “You heard the ‘gorgeous’ part, right? Now fuck me, Loki. Put those obscenely long legs of yours to use and _use them to fuck me_.”

And after Loki had moved into place, after Tony had taken his full weight--and what the fuck was this fucker made of, adamantium--Loki had only pressed Tony’s legs up further and ... oh, okay, yeah, pushed every inch of that long, thick cock right into Tony’s--

The noise Tony made wasn’t human.

And if Loki even heard it over the sound of his own want--if Loki could even sense the way Tony’s body tensed up as inch after inch of that horse-sized dick _(heh)_ opened him up in brand-new and interesting ways, well ... He could also feel Tony’s absolute need, the craving to have all of Loki inside, to feel him over and inside and out, to smell him--fuck, to _smell him._

He scratched nails down Loki’s back just to feel the shiver and all the filthy encouragements bounce back to him.

And should have known Loki’s silver tongue wouldn’t abandon him--had gotten snippets of it already in much less awesome scenarios than this one, but Loki just kept talking. “So good, Stark--so good, the way your body grips me, the way it opens for me, the way _you_ open for me.

“The way you feel. Oh, how you _feel_ \--”

And that was it for the god of mischief, whose body tensed as Tony felt him white out with his own peak, his cock twitching and coming warm into Tony, and for a few moments, all Tony could feel was unambiguous pleasure, maybe a dusting of joy, and it was--

It was--

_Addictive._

Tony had slick on his palm as soon as Loki rolled off, because, yeah, he was adamantium himself, and moments away from coming, thanks for asking. Christ, he’d never--he’d never ... And then Loki smacked his hand away (which, you know, fucking hurt, and he got a “sorry” said under the breath for it), but Loki took up a good rhythm on his wet cock and it was only a moment before Tony was arching up and shooting all over his own belly, his own unabashed cries echoed by Loki’s gasps and ...

God, it was too much. He knew Loki’s body was already trying to get it back up, could feel Loki getting turned on all over again, and were they going to fucking do this all night?

It would kill him.

He looked over at Loki, whose eyes were huge and who looked as conflicted as Tony felt. Who, yeah, felt as conflicted as Tony felt, by the resurrecting need of their bodies. Tony grabbed for his face with one still-slicked hand and pulled him in for a kiss.

Because hell.

If it killed them? What a way to go.

***

Tony was limp and any filters he had ever had were destroyed, so ... no time like the present.

He stretched a little and turned his head toward Loki, who lay staring up at the ceiling. He looked a little shell-shocked. Yeah, that was understandable. Figured Loki would be the one eventually to go for food, because Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to move again.

“So.” Didn’t miss how Loki tensed slightly. Ah, well. “You must have a theory. How this works. Why me. Why you. What’s controlling it.”

“As Thor explained, it is taboo to ask questions. Too many questions.” The disgust he felt at the willful ignorance was hardly a surprise.

“And that’s stopped you? Really?” Couldn’t not rib, naturally.

Loki huffed. “There are few answers to be gleaned, when all choose ignorance over enlightenment.” And the patented Loki Dramatic Pause. “But, yes, I have a theory.”

And there it was. “So, lay it on me.”

“The bond--it is not magic. Or not entirely magic. It is, instead, physical, or biological, if you prefer.” Loki paused for a moment. “We were born with a particular similarity between us, and it is always there. Unique to us. Like identical twins, but ones born from different wombs.”

“Twins.” Tony tried to cover the doubtful tone--didn’t want to discourage, but come on. “Like, brothers.”

Loki made a small noise of agreement.

Tony pressed on. “Brothers who feel compelled to fuck each other.”

And that earned a chuckle and a quiet “yes.”

Tony tried really hard not to picture Thor ... and Loki ... “Wow. I don’t know what shows you’ve been watching, but ... “

Loki feigned impatience. “You know what I mean, Stark. Or at least well enough.”

Tony chuckled back, mostly a peace offering. They were silent for a moment, but then something else occurred to him. “So, you say we’re like twins, but after I ... go, you’ll find someone else, right? So that means it’s more like triplets, eventually, or ... ”

And that silence was not so comfortable.

What--

“Loki.”

“Thor did not choose to tell you, for some reason, but, no, there will be no other.” Another pause, but not for show. Loki’s words came out slowly. “You are the only one I’ll have.”

And that? Made Tony’s chest hurt, just a dull ache in his heart that ... wasn’t echoed by Loki. Loki was surprisingly calm. Was apparently at peace with a few more decades of this, maybe, and then its absence for thousands of years. Which ... well, fuck.

“Well, okay, then, as long as it doesn’t bother you--”

“Stark.”

“I mean I--”

“Stark.” Yeah, okay, Tony could shut up. Loki pressed on. “There’s something else Thor didn’t tell you.”

***

And that was--

Holy fucking _hell._

“You’re saying I have to choose you. Over everyone else. It’s either you ... or everyone else.” Tony had reassembled the pillows under his head, and now it was his turn to stare up at the ceiling.

Loki’s voice was soft in his ear. “You don’t have to give anything up. Anyone. They will die as they would have died anyway. You will know them as long as you choose to. Nothing changes for them.”

“But it changes for me. I’ll keep going. Watching them get old and die. Like some fucking ... like some fucking Tolkien elf princess.”

Yeah, that gobsmacked. “You are no elf.”

Oops, wrong word. “No, but ... you take me to Asgard for a visit. You let your healers fix--” Here he gestured at the scars and prosthetics of his chest. “--this. You spoon-feed me magical apple pie--”

“That’s not--”

“Let’s just go with it for a minute.” Tony tugged the blankets back up over his chest. “And I get to live-- How long, exactly?”

“It’s-- I don’t know,” Loki admitted. “You’re still older than I am, physically. Close to Hogun’s age, I think. But ... if you--” He paused, roused a bit. “If you don’t do anything foolish, anything to get yourself killed first ... Perhaps two thousand years? More? I’m not certain.”

“Two thousand--” Gasped. “Wow.” He turned and looked at Loki. Really looked at Loki. “And if you don’t take me there, if I say no--”

Another burst of feeling, and, yeah, there it was--dread and the eruption of Loki’s Patented Shitty Feelings of Rejection, which ... Christ, that was running a very familiar rut right through his heart. “I’m not saying no, Loki. I’m just asking the question.”

That calmed the situation. Some. “Three decades,” Loki said. “Perhaps four, if you’re not terribly stupid. Though I don’t put too much stock in the likelihood of that.”

“Yeah, field mouse--I get it.” He turned on his side so he could really look at Loki’s face, and so Loki could see his. “I would ask why you waited so long to tell me, but I guess I know. You weren’t sure you wanted me to say yes.”

And, without a hesitation, the response: “I _didn’t_ want you to say yes.”

Yeah, blunt. “And now?”

“Now, I just want your answer.” He edged away. “ _Your_ answer.”

***

Tony wandered out into the living room, in search of a glass, or maybe a gallon, of water. He felt achy, sticky in a few places, and, man, he knew he smelled like a--

And there was Thor.

_Eh._

The tiny dismay he felt was echoed a millionfold from the bedroom, though without the sense of action that suggested Loki was going to come bicker with his brother or just try to drive him off.

Thor had an annoying tendency to show up just at the ... most pointed times.

So, Tony got himself a glass of water and pushed--didn’t throw, though he was tempted--a bottle of beer in Thor’s direction. Ignored the knowing survey Thor made of him; knew what he looked like with a robe barely tied over his nakedness, his hair insane, and reeking of sweat and sex and Loki.

Took up a seat a couple down from Thor at the bar, returned his greeting for a good night, and then pushed on: “I’m never going to forget, you know. What he’s done. What he is.” Blew out a long breath. “What he did.”

“Nor should you.” Thor fucking opened the bottle with his teeth. Damn. Then he continued: “I myself am resigned to fighting my brother again--a year from now, a hundred. A thousand. I know this, that we will fight and that he will truly believe the conflict between us. That he has just cause to wish me hurt.” A pause while he tilted the bottle up and swallowed once, then twice. Set the beer back on the countertop with a clink. “He will do the same to you.” Looked Tony over again. Reconsidered: “He _may_ do the same to you.”

One of those giant hands reached over and touched Tony’s arm. “Regardless ... I also know that, after, he will return, and still demand the same loyalty. The same devotion.” A shrug. “The same love. And I will give it to him.

“Loki is Loki. He will not change. He has always been this way.”

“And what about me?” Tony patted the hand, once, and then gently nudged it off. “Will I change? After a thousand years of that?”

He didn’t have to feel Thor’s emotions to get them--there was the Christmas-puppy smile. “He told you, then.”

“He told me, but ... I haven’t ... I haven’t given him an answer, yet.”

Okay, less of a puppy--more of a Christmas-morning turtle. Thor thought for a minute, which was at least something. He wasn’t offering pat answers and half-intel now. Finally, he replied, “You may, Tony. You may. You have wrought much good--and bad--in four decades of your time. The scale at which you can help or harm only grows exponentially as your years lengthen.”

Yeah, no pat answers. 

Loki was unhappy about whatever he was getting off Tony, which was funny, because Tony didn’t feel unhappy himself ... Just puzzled and, yeah, thoughtful, but he was learning Loki well enough to know that “thoughtful” and “Thor” was cause for Loki’s immediate distrust.

So, time to end this conversation. He continued to sip his water, no longer encouraging confidences from his ... brother-in-law (or whatever the fuck Thor was now--deity-in-law?), and the eventual, companionable silence soothed his own spirits and assuaged Loki’s concerns.

***

Thor had only been gone a few minutes when Loki emerged from the hall.

Tony chuckled. “Good timing.” He stood to put his glass into the sink, slid Thor’s bottle into the recycling area. “I wonder--I find myself dealing with his bullshit less and less. Is that your influence?”

It was Loki’s turn to chuckle. “Oddly enough, I find myself only becoming more fond of him. So, perhaps.”

Tony looked Loki over--the god once clad in horns and metal and leather, who once killed ... oh, so many _(too many)_. Who once lifted him by his neck and tossed him through glass just a few yards away.

Who now had pulled on boxers--maybe not even his own--and an unbuttoned shirt, and who shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

And who now looked at Tony as if he were as necessary as air.

Who _felt_ like Tony were just as necessary as air.

“It’s probably for the best,” Tony breathed. “We’re going to have to put up with his bullshit for a long time.”

Loki hadn’t missed that, and the jolt of hope _hurt._

“Then you--,” he said, but Tony cut him off.

“If you thought I would give you any other answer, you don’t know me very well at all.” He watched the smile spread slowly across that mouth, as Loki wound closer to him. “But I think--” And then Loki touched him, and he had to work hard to finish his thought. “I think we’ll have time to change that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for toughing it out, readers! 
> 
> A setting note: Obviously this is ambiguously post-IM 3 and Thor:TDW. I handwaved the end of TDW in addition to bringing Happy back as the chauffeur. Doing otherwise made this more complicated than it needed to be. Assume "stuff happened" in the meantime to bring all of them to this point. And, of course, Happy just wants to occasionally take care of his boss--that, I'm more than willing to believe!
> 
> Title from the Violent Femmes song.
> 
> [You'll find me on tumblr](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com), posting way too much writerly anguish as well as fangirling over other authors and artists.


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